#anyway this concept is ruining my life!

[faunina]

happy TWO YEAR anniversary to everyone who attended the destiel wedding!

and happy valentines day to the rest of you guys <3 click the image for a surprise!

if you’ve ever seen that one post (i’ll link it in the replies) about the parallels between the rodeo scene in 12x11 and the movie “urban cowboy” and it entirely broke your brain, then this post is for you. and also i’m kissing you on the mouth

[ID. Digital art of Dean Winchester done in black and white. He’s is laid back on top of an electric bull. One hand rests on his hip while the other hovers in mid-air, fingers slightly curled, and he seems to be looking at it. When clicked, the transparency shows Castiel standing behind him. Castiel is holding Dean’s hand to his lips, while his other hand supports the back of Dean’s head. Castiel has a visible halo and wings that he has curled protectively around Dean. End ID.]

[peniscat]

.

[fiendishartist2]

putting a man in my screenwriting tv show concept with shaking hands knowing the fandom would completely disregard the sapphic main characters for him

[yay-depression]

it is so silly when ppl are like “transitioning as an adult should be restricted/illegal because it’s not medically necessary and the results are permanent!” bc like… we do so many things in modern medicine that aren’t strictly necessary & have permanent outcomes and yet… we do them.

my mom went in for a voluntary corrective knee surgery to remove part of her knee. my dad didn’t need to have his stomach removed, he chose to do that. there’s a content creator called footlessjo who chose to have a below the knee amputation. people everywhere ask their doctors for gastric sleeve surgeries, or corrective eye surgery. not to mention almost of these surgeries have a higher regret rate than transitioning.

if we only did medical procedures or treatments when people were dying the quality of life for everyone would go down. if we trust other adults to make permanent decisions regarding things like whether they should keep an organ or a limb, then there’s no reason not to trust trans people who want to medically transition.

[mishkakagehishka]

Me when i dream of lil Mika but it's another nightmare

[cocoaletta]

we don’t need to talk about the dog lol

[docholligay]

@madegeeky it was pretty much what I associate with the show. It was mostly cheesy and shallow and had no concept of worry about ‘fucking with time and history’ and I rolled my eyes so much when they took Vincent to the museum that, btw, Starry Night is not in. I might have to go rewatch the ending because I think separate from everything including the show itself I might like the end part about life being joys and sorrows but I missed a lot of it because I was ranting and then the cheeseball-o-rama of “for Amy” on the fucking sunflowers, LORD. 

LOVED the line about winning not always being fun, though. 

@iscahwynn​ The whole stupid episode is about fucking Rory!! Where is Amy getting angry and saying “I’m sorry your life was stolen from you, but you can’t fucking steal mine” or showing compassion to old amy, while telling her the kindest thing for them both is to let her go? Or fighting against Doctor Bowtie to save her old self? Fucking anything but ~think of the boy~ jesus fucking christ let this woman feel her shit for her own sake. And maybe this episode is more compelling if you care about these three characters but let me tell you as someone coming straight into the show here I am not sure why we care that much about an okayish to bland looking man who doesn’t really DO anything. And I’m supposed to FEEL something about Bowtie lying to her, but since I watched this right after the Vincent ep, I was like, “oh NOW time matters??? Interesting.” God and even at the fucking end, being like, “did I ever tell you about the boy I met there?” vomit. Jesus fuck. What a waste of a beautiful concept. 

[binders-and-beanies]

Anyone else feel like. I won’t say ✨triggered✨ but like genuinely very upset by even the sight of snow. Maybe my seasonal depression is just very bad but if I see snow outside or even see like an aesthetic picture of snow online I get oh so sad and the thought of it feels so threatening and bleak and doomy gloomy like you might as well show me a frame from a horror movie. That’s not even a good comparison tho bc snow is real. Idk y’all there’s nothing I can do abt it bc no one can stop the snow I just wish I didn’t have to pretend not to be afraid of winter for the sake of people who are like bUT ITS PRETTY

[notjustjavierpena]

Te Quiero, a Husband!Javier Valentine’s Special

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is for all my readers who have wanted to get an insight into Hubby and Wife’s dynamic, backstory and family life. I hope you enjoy it because I put my heart into this mess of a fic. Thank you @strang3lov3 for always inspiring me, thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always being a great beta-reader and here’s to @morallyinept who told me to tag her in any V-Day fic I post!l

Summary: Your husband has made big plans for Valentine's Day, beginning with breakfast in bed, but not everything goes as smoothly as expected, and suddenly you are faced with a big surprise. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18, hubby!Javier, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, breastfeeding, playful banter, Chucho makes an appearance!!, siblings being siblings, Javi loving you and his kids, negative feelings about your mom-body, insecurity/comfort, spontaneous sex, pussy eating, (Spanish) dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, silly people in love, LOTS of kisses, lots of i love yous, mention of pregnancy and its symptoms    

Word count: 11.7k (i am so sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53757202

Te Quiero

You open your eyes, reaching to rub them as the door to the bedroom opens by Javier using his shoulder and backing into it. There’s a crease on his forehead, between his furrowed brows, from looking extremely concentrated because he is carrying a wooden tray in his hands. 

Most days you are a heavy sleeper. It is a result of having two children without an understanding of the concept of privacy when it comes to their parents. However, what truly wakes you up is the concerning rustle of utensils, plates, and mugs that your husband is balancing as he nears your shared bed. 

Because Javier has his back to you, you close your eyes again and pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The tray is placed on the foot of the bed, and you fight a smile as you hear his footsteps coming around the end of the bed and closer to your side. 

“Buenos días (good morning),” he whispers to you, and you roll onto your back and sit up. Javier stands by the side of the bed and waits. 

Like in a movie, you blink awake slowly and lift your arms up over your head to stretch and yawn. Javier looks at you expectantly, and you catch a glimpse of why your son resembles him so much. They both have that boyish charm, the ability to look excited in the exact same way when waiting for a reaction from you. 

“What’s all this?” You ask with a grin. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida (my life),” he says and leans down to initiate a kiss.

“I have bad breath,” you point out.

“I have coffee,” he replies and kisses you anyway, “And today’s crossword puzzle.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you scoot to sit back against the headboard. Javier moves to get into bed with you, pulling the covers aside to get under them while you reach for the tray. You place it between the two of you as if you are about to have a picnic in bed. 

“Did you check on Seb?” You ask as you marvel at the breakfast that Javier has put together for the two of you. There are heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes, an abundance of fresh fruit (including blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and banana), whipped cream, syrup, and coffee the way you both like it; black without anything more which Javier claims - to this day - is still one of the reasons that he fell for you. 

“Still asleep for now but I suspect he’ll want one of us soon because he can hear us,” he tells you and reaches for his mug after handing you yours. 

“I’ll enjoy this while it lasts then,” you take a sip of coffee, humming at the taste. Then, after putting down your mug, you pop a blueberry into your mouth. 

“I think Lucas has a crush,” Javier tells you in a heartbeat later, smirking into his own cup of coffee. 

You raise a brow in suspicion and surprise, looking at him without turning your head. You swallow down the blueberry and go for the pancakes next, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, he got shy when I asked him if they were making Valentine cards at school today. So I figured something was up because he usually doesn’t get quiet about all those things, you know, he’s touchy-feely,” Javier explains. As he talks, you pour syrup onto the stack of pancakes on your plate, “Inés nearly fell off her chair as she talked about what the school has planned. So yeah, whatever, he’ll tell us if he wants to.”

“Well, perhaps, and hopefully I might add, he’s inherited his dad’s charm as well as his good looks,” you tease, tapping your chin as if you are trying to remember something, “What was it Connie called you? Think it was serial romancer.”

“Hold on, you’ve never told me this,” he pretends to look offended, “When was this?”

“At the bar… just after I laid eyes on you,” you sprinkle fruit on top of your breakfast and wipe your hand on your tank top, “She told me not even to think about it but I knew that I was done for.”

“That damn woman,” he lets out a genuine laugh, “Better tell Steve to keep his lady under control.”

“Connie’s definitely the one keeping her man under control. Just like me,” you smirk, taking a bite that is way too big because your eyes can’t get enough. You groan at the taste. Everything is delicious, so you stuff your mouth and thus don’t have to reply to your husband’s outrage.

“Hey,” he says but you just grin at him, showing off each piece of pancake between your teeth. He sighs but there’s a hint of adoration in his eyes and you know he is fighting a smile, “Charming.”

When you finally swallow, he has dug into his own meal. You eat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company as it is undisturbed by children. 

“Don’t you have work today?” You ask eventually. 

“I told them I was coming in later,” he replies, stabbing a strawberry with his fork, “They can survive without me until 10-ish. They’re gonna have to.”

You glance over at the clock on your nightstand. It is 8:16. There’s still time to enjoy each other’s company, maybe even have a cuddle or something more if you aren’t too full from breakfast. 

Javier has opened the paper now but he hasn’t gotten out a pen yet which means that he isn’t starting the puzzle yet. You continue eating, and meanwhile, conversation flows naturally around subjects like work, kids, and sweet memories. 

Suddenly, in the midst of reminiscing about your first trip out of town together, the light on the baby monitor comes on and Sebastian’s distraught, unhappy cries sound through the speaker. Javier puts down the paper and gets up before you. 

“Do you think he’s hungry?” You ask, already moving to pull your top’s straps down to reveal your breasts. 

“I know he is, that’s how he cries when he is,” he moves towards the door, already talking to his son throughout the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

“You’re so much better at the parent thing than me,” you try to remember which of your breasts you nursed from last night but you cannot, and therefore resort to feeling for the fuller one. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he leans down to kiss your lips before heading down the hall. You listen and wait, hearing Javier coo at his newborn and causing the cries to turn into hiccups instead. 

After a moment, he returns with Sebastian in his arms. You hold out your own and he carefully hands him over to you. With a grin, you settle your baby into your arms, “Hi, sweetheart. Hi there, baby boy, ooo, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Look at that big mouth you’ve got — Honey, can you get me a cloth?”

You don’t look up but hear Javier leave the room again but only briefly. He comes back and gives you a muslin cloth which you throw over your shoulder, a thing that always makes Javier joke about you looking like - and kind of being - a bartender if that bartender only served milk. 

Sebastian quickly latches on. He closes his eyes as he nurses, and you look longingly at your breakfast as he eats his own. You frown, “It’s getting cold. My coffee too.”

“Just sit back,” your husband reassures, shifting on the bed without making the tray tip over. He cuts a piece of pancake and stabs it with his fork, “Open up.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smile happily but oblige. 

“You’re literally keeping my kid alive, mi amor (my love). The least I can do is keep you alive as well, fuel you up,” he feeds you with his own mouth slightly agape. It makes you laugh. 

“What?” Javier chuckles in his confusion.

“You look like a fish,” you tease as you giggle, letting Sebastian grab at your index finger, “I’ve never noticed if you look like this too when feeding the kids.”

“Cállate (shut up),” he laughs, consciously avoiding making himself look foolish again as he feeds you another bite. He purposely pokes your nose with the back of your fork to smear the tip with whipped cream, and you respond by looking shocked while laughing. 

“That’s so unfair, I have an actual baby in my arms,” you argue, looking down at Sebastian to give him the run-down on his father’s behavior, “You know, Seb, it’s a good thing I love him so much. Look at this. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you might have deserved that one, baby,” he reasons, “Don’t think I feel bad. Seb agrees.”

“You don’t know that,” you use the muslin cloth to wipe a little milk off of your child’s cheek and then wipe whipped cream off your nose too, “Now, please, feed your starving wife. I feel weaker by the second.” 

“Always the dramatic,” he replies but follows through. 

The teasing dies down after that. You eat whatever Javier gives you whilst you are breastfeeding and Javier eventually finds the crossword in the paper to do it during your quiet morning. 

When Sebastian is done eating, cooing happily, you bend your knees and place him against your thighs. You hold both of his hands, doing a little dance with him whilst your husband reads clues aloud. 

“Another word for radiance, four letters and beginning with g,” he says. 

“Glow,” you reply instantly.

“You’re so much better at the crossword thing than me,” he winks and writes down the remaining letters. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you smile at him and he smiles back. The morning is perfect. 

*

After a cozy morning, Javier has to leave for work. He kisses you and Sebastian goodbye and takes the breakfast tray down into the kitchen with him so you can sleep more if you want to. 

You protest at first - it really hadn’t been your intention - but seeing your baby yawn and coo in your arms makes you sleepy, and you end up on your side with Sebastian on Javier’s side of the bed. He has his arms above his head, face turned towards you and you rest an arm over him whilst you snore lightly. The few hours of sleep you get like this without any interruption are fantastic, boosting your productivity for the rest of the early afternoon. 

You dress casually and wrap Sebastian in a sling, so he can sleep against your chest while you clean up from breakfast, fill and start the dishwasher, and do a round of laundry before having to pick up Lucas and Inés from school. 

However, when you start to get the car keys from their place in the hallway, you hear the door open and the familiar sound of children’s voices filling the house. You can hear the enthusiasm in their voices as they talk to who you assume is your husband but when you turn the corner, you see that it is, in fact, your father-in-law.

“Hello, mija (my daughter),” Chucho says and takes off his hat. He hangs it by all the coats and scarves, “Javier told me to pick up the kiddos.”

You look a little dumbstruck, having been taken completely by surprise but still, you walk over to give him a hug and receive a kiss on the cheek, “Did he say why?”

Chucho kisses Sebastian’s head too, who only coos quietly against your chest. From below, Inés is trying to get your attention. You run a hand over her hair without looking at her, trying to get her to tone down her enthusiasm as you search for answers. Chucho just smiles. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” he reasons with a gentle smile, “I think he has his reasons. All I know is that I’m not supposed to bring them back here before tomorrow afternoon after school.”

“Abuelo promised that we could get pizza for dinner,” Inés interrupts again. You smile down at her whilst trying to process having a whole twenty-four hours off from being parents. 

“Ain’t you lucky,” you say with a grin. 

Chucho beckons Lucas over who brings his school bag with him, “But first, I think these two have some things to show you. Lucas, c’mere.”

“We made presents!” Inés says and Lucas glares. He frowns at his little sister, placing his backpack by his feet and throwing daggers in her direction.

“Inés, you’re ruining the surprise,” he grumbles despite still digging into the bag. Inés seems unbothered about his irritation, simply joining him to stick her hands into the bag as well. Lucas continues, “Don’t tell Mom what it is.”

You and Chucho watch them, hiding a chuckle as Inés eventually still states that she wants to show her drawing first and Lucas starts groaning. 

“Mom!” He says with exasperation. 

“Ay, Inés, por favor (please),” you say, “Let Lucas share his surprise. It’ll be your turn soon.”

“Mine is for Papá,” she states proudly. 

“She’s just excited, hijito (little son),” you hear your father-in-law say. He puts a calloused hand on Lucas’ shoulder, whispering quietly, “Show your mom your present. Inés’ll be too busy talking to notice.”

It is true. Inés gets a hold of her drawing and spends her time admiring her work, and Chucho is sweet enough to indulge her to give you and your son a moment alone. 

In his very own gentle nature, Lucas finds the card that he has made for you just next to where Chucho had told him to store Inés’ drawing as well. He blushes as he hands it to you, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom.”

You inspect it before opening it; it is a blank card that Lucas has decorated with colorful stickers and glitter, having drawn shapes and patterns along the sides and a big heart in the middle where it says To Mom in his wonky handwriting. 

You open it to reveal a little letter addressed to you. It is framed by another border of glitter:

Dear Mom,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you a million billion times around the Earth. You take care of me and Inés and Sebastian. And you always make me happy when you give me a hug. 

Love, Lucas

You find yourself speechless for a moment and out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar expectant face that Javier sported earlier too. It takes your breath away. 

Carefully, you crouch down with Sebastian still in his sling. It gives you the opportunity to embrace Lucas from the side, hugging him close and kissing his hair repeatedly. You whisper endearments to him, tell him you love him and he gets shy as he reciprocates, using the time to caress Sebastian’s fine hair on top of his head. 

“I love you so much, my Valentine boy,” you say with a soft voice as you pull away, stretching again and running your hand through his dark hair repeatedly. You can feel a few more tears escape your eyes, your heart pinching in your chest from how much love you feel. Could the day become more perfect? You doubt it. 

“Dad asked me about it at breakfast but I was scared of him telling you so it wouldn’t be a surprise because he always does. But then Inés did it anyway…” he grumbles and looks up to see your tears. His eyes widen, “Mom, are you crying?”

“It’s just happy tears, mijo (my son),” you reassure, “Sometimes having babies makes you cry a little more often.”

Lucas seems a little confused by this. You tell him that he’ll understand when he gets older. After all, he only has so many years until hormones will start to rage through his own body. 

Suddenly, the front door opens and closes in the next moment, and Inés giggles loudly as she recognizes the sound of her father’s footsteps. When he enters the kitchen doorway - his steps are way bigger even if Inés is running - he crouches down and opens his arms, “There she is! Mi diablilla (my little devil), how are you?”

Inés throws her arms around her father’s neck, drawing still clutched in her grip to the point where the paper crinkles. You feel like it was a waste of time to try and wipe away your happy tears because the sight makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

“I made you a drawing. Abuelo told me I could give it to you before we go to his house. Did you know we are having pizza tonight? I can have a whole pizza to myself and I want the pizza to have pepperoni,” Inés announces, squealing with delight as Javier wraps his arms around her before stretching to his full height again and picking her up with a dad-groan. He places her on his hip, bumping his nose into her cheek.

“Christ, you get bigger by the second. Pizza? I don’t remember you liking pizza,” Javier teases, walking across the room to the rest of his family. He smiles at his son, reaching out to rub his shoulder with his free hand and winking at him before talking further with babbling Inés, “Hold on, I thought you liked broccoli and spinach the most. Do you really want pepperoni? I think you should get broccoli on your pizza.”

Inés loves it when her father teases her. He’ll act dumb and silly on purpose - her favorite thing a year ago had been whenever he made himself purposely bad at puzzles, and he’d try to piece two corners together -  much to his daughter’s delight. 

“Nooo, ew!” She says with a grin, clinging onto him. 

“She only wants it because I want it,” Lucas says matter-of-factly, still a little frustrated with his little sister. He bounces back and forth on his heels. 

“Then you can have her leftovers, mijo (my son), she never eats a whole pizza anyway” Javier reasons and mouths the last bit of the sentence, moving the hand on his son’s shoulder to put it on the back of his neck. He gently tugs him into his side. Eventually, your son gives in and hugs him around his middle.

“Hi Dad,” he says softly, hugging him tightly even if it’s briefly. 

“Hola,” he smiles. 

“We should get going,” Chucho interrupts gently and reaches for his hat again, “We’ve got a lot of things planned this afternoon. The animals won’t take care of themselves.” 

“My drawing!” Inés yells, squirming in her father’s arms from eagerness and rushing, so much that she nearly smacks the picture into his face. She holds it too close to his eyes so that he has to take it and hold it for her. 

You find yourself tiptoeing up behind them to look at the picture yourself, trying not to distract anyone from what they’re doing. 

It’s a picture of your house. There’s a fire in the chimney but its smoke blows the opposite way of the way that a cloud is raining. She has just started drawing butterflies but they’re as big as the trees in the garden and with multicolored wings. 

In the bottom right corner, she has written I love Daddy but replaced the word love with a heart instead. Underneath is her signature. The S in her name is turning the wrong way but it’s her name nevertheless. 

“This is so good,” Javier says enthusiastically, “Tell me about it. What is it?”

“It’s my house! I drew a lot of butterflies in the garden,” she explains proudly. In the background, you notice that Chucho is carrying bags, which you had no idea were packed, out of the front door. 

“I can see that. You really know how to color. The green one is my favorite,” Javier continues, “Do you want me to put it on the fridge for when you come home tomorrow?” 

Inés nods eagerly. She beams and then turns serious, “Yes! If— if you want to take the rabbit one down that’s okay.”

“Oh, I am gonna miss you, mi vida (my life),” Javier pecks her cheek and she giggles, “So much.”

“It’s only till tomorrow,” you point out with a giggle. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss these rascals,” Javier puts Inés down on the floor again, still holding her drawing and making sure not to crumple it. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, “You too, hijo (son).”

“I love you, Dad,” he says with a shy smile. 

“I love you too, Daddy!” Inés joins in. 

You mimic a wave with Sebastian’s little hand, “I love you too, Papá.”

“Now, now. As much as I love you, say bye to Mom,” he protests, nodding towards his infant son, “Want me to take him?”

“Yes, please,” you say and carefully unwrap Sebastian from his sling. It’s not a difficult transfer, something you have done a million times in the past many years. Sebastian only complains a little, Javier tuts and bounces him and the paper in his hand flaps. 

You hug both of your kids at the same time, kissing them repeatedly on their heads, “I love you very much, my babies. I hope you have a fun time.”

“That’s the car packed,” Chucho announces as he comes back inside, “Come on, kids.”

“Right, I’ll put Seb in his car seat,” Javier replies as Inés and Lucas run to their grandfather’s car. Chucho goes with them to put on their seatbelts. 

“Sebastian is going too?” You tense up. This hasn’t even crossed your mind. 

“It’s just supposed to be us tonight,” Javier says, having put Inés’ drawing on the kitchen counter and already moving towards the front door where the car seat is on top of a cabinet. You hear shuffling around as your husband clicks the safety belt on, and you instinctively follow. 

“We haven’t done that since the summer,” you argue. 

“All the more reason to do it again if it’s been that long,” he responds with a little smile.

“Well, does he have enough milk?” You ask, moving your weight from side to side. 

“More than enough, I packed extra.”

“O-okay.”

Javier leaves the car seat on the floor, steps close to you and cups your face, “He’ll be fine. Just like Inés and Lucas have been in the past. Relax, mi amor, no pasa nada  (my love, it’s okay).” 

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and nod, holding onto one of Javier’s wrists for a moment as you steady yourself. He looks like someone ready to catch you, “Está todo bien (it’s okay).” 

“Now, let’s say goodbye so I can have you to myself, vale?” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you just barely. 

“You have to tell me what you have planned tonight too,” you say and he nods. 

“Claro (of course).”

It takes five minutes to get Sebastian in the car, secure him properly, and wave goodbye to your kids from the driveway. When you cannot see the car anymore, you walk inside and the house gets incredibly quiet after you close the door. The both of you let out a sigh. 

“What now?” You look at Javier questioningly. After all, he is the one who has planned the next 24 hours.

“Honestly? I just want to take a nap,” he finds your hips and steers you closer, linking his arms around your waist. You reach up to rest your palms on his chest, scratching slightly against his shirt. He chuckles, “Do you want to take a nap with me?”

“Just a nap?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes, just a nap,” he confirms with a boyish twinkle in his eyes.

“I’d kill for a nap but only if you tell me what’s happening later. I don’t like surprises,” you remind him when he already starts dragging you by your hand toward the stairs.

Javier waits until the both of you have ascended the stairs before telling you. You don’t say it but there’s a bit of relief following as you thought that he had forgotten what today was, especially because you usually at least get a present from him. He smiles brightly as he speaks, seeming proud that he has managed to keep it a secret from you, “Well, first you are going to wear something nice, a dress, and get all gorgeous for me.”

He continues as you reach the bedroom, toeing off his shoes, “Then at eight, I’m taking you out to dinner at that new place downtown where the portions are fucking tiny and ridiculous.”

“Wait, the gourmet restaurant?” You have let go of his hand to undo the baby wrap, folding it afterward and placing it on your shared dresser, “They’ve been fully booked for months.” 

“Well yeah, and guess whose name is on one of the bookings,” he smirks, crawling onto the bed and waiting for you to follow. 

“You spoil me,” you lay down on your respective sides and turn to face each other. You rest both hands underneath your cheek, grinning at the way that Javier looks so mischievous but suddenly, something in his eyes darkens. 

“What?” You ask.

He reaches out for your waist, “And then when we get home, when you are all giggly from champagne, I am putting a baby in you.”

Your heart skips a beat. All blood in your body goes south. Without thinking, you sling a leg over his body and move closer, “Is that so?”

“Indeed, mi vida (my life),” the hand on your waist goes to rest on top of your thigh. He rubs it once and then twice but doesn’t do anything further, “But not now. Have a nap, wake up, and get pretty for me. You won’t get dick before tonight, lo siento (I’m sorry).”

“Unfair,” you mumble with already closed eyes. 

*

It turns out to be just a nap. You wake a good while longer before Javier, knowing that you need more time than he does to get ready if you want to feel good about going to a fancy restaurant. 

Besides you, your husband continues sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even sense it when the mattress shifts, bed springs creaking a little, as you leave the bed, and you make a mental note to ask him about his day to figure out what on Earth has made him this tired. 

You have a checklist in your head with steps for getting ready to go out. It changes with the details of the event, so you pull out the one that includes what you like to do to look pretty for your husband. However, all the lists always start with a shower. 

The spray is hot and soothing against your skin. You wash your hair and leave in your conditioner while you scrub your body, giving it extra time to work as you top your normal shower routine by shaving your legs. After struggling with balancing your leg against the wall for what has seemed like forever, the last five minutes of your shower are just spent standing underneath the shower head to feel the water cascading down your clean, smooth, and soft skin. 

It takes you twenty-five minutes more to put on lotion, brush your teeth, blow dry your hair, and choose an outfit. When you leave the bathroom to put on your dress, Javier kisses you in the doorway before popping into the shower himself. 

Now the hard part, you think to yourself. The dress you have chosen is from your anniversary a few years ago, consisting of tight red fabric. A part of you knows that it’s a bad idea as soon as you take it off its hanger and start putting it on, stepping into it, and pulling it up over your hips. 

When it hugs your body in a way that feels unfamiliar to you, you step towards the full-body mirror on the bedroom wall with the intention of seeing if it needs any adjustments around your chest and waist. What greets you is not something that you wish to continue looking at but staring into the mirror, you find yourself unable to look away.

A reflection of your post-baby body stares back. You aren’t anymore who you were when you had Lucas, and thus getting back into your usual shape after giving birth to Sebastian has not become a reality despite the pressure from people around you being there. 

There’s not much to say about it except your hips are wider and your stomach protrudes more than it did before. Usually, you haven’t worn a dress before getting down to your pre-pregnancy weight but Javier had made it sound so easy and now, it is so difficult; insecurities whisper in your ear as you try to flatten the fabric in hopes of looking prettier.

However, the scrutiny you put yourself under only intensifies and self-doubt becomes the uninvited guest that insecurity brings to the party. Should you ditch the idea of a dress altogether? You think yes and start to undress again because it’s way too tight around your middle and torso.

When Javier comes back into the bedroom, his hair is still damp and he has put on black underwear. You cannot help feeling the tiniest bit bitter at how well his extra pounds suit him and simply leaves him with a so-called dad-bod. He finds you stepping out of the dress as it has pooled around your feet. You look on the verge of tears at this point, knowing that you are not the woman that he chose to marry ten years ago. 

“¿Que pasó (What happened)?” He is just about to head for the dresser when he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you, noticing immediately the way your shoulders slump when you feel defeated.

You smile at him in the mirror, slightly unsure, when he catches your eyes, and you shift a little on the spot when he goes to stand right behind you.

“What?” You ask.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires once again. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and Javier raises a brow. 

“Is this a trick question?” He continues with a smile, “Baby, you are pretty, so pretty. You look incredible. As in, it is actually illegal or should be.”

Your attempt at a smile falters and Javier seems to realize that he has overdone it. You don’t believe him when he goes too head-on with the compliments. 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you say in frustration and reach up to rub your face, finally turning around to avoid the mirror completely, “My boobs are too big, my thighs and waist too. Nothing looks good on me, especially not a dress.”

“Ay, slow down,” he looks down at your half-naked body and smirks a little. It mostly just makes you want to cover up again, “First of all, your boobs are great.”

You try to laugh but it just sounds painful. Then he finds your eyes again, watches the pout on your face, and tuts when a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. 

“I’m not beautiful anymore,” you say as if it’s a fact, “I look so different from when you met me.”. 

He wipes the tear away with his thumb, saying your name gently and you find your eyes prickling with more frustrated tears. 

He lets out a soft aww, baby, and steps closer to pull you into his arms, holding you as he lets you whimper quietly and then cry softly into his shoulder. His hands rub up and down your back. He is so warm.

“How about I choose something?” He suggests after a long silence filled with a bunch of silent tears. He pulls back to look you in the face, “You know I have a favorite, and then it won’t be as much pressure if you worry that I won’t like it. Even if that’s bullshit.”

“O-okay,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Okay, baby,” he smiles genuinely and pecks your hair.

He goes to browse through your clothes and you stay by the mirror, still not turning around to look at yourself but instead looking at your feet like a child feeling guilty. It takes a moment for him to find the dress that he refers to as his favorite but when he returns to you, you look up again and are surprised by the one he apparently likes more than all the others.

It’s a navy blue satin dress that you bought last year when you were pregnant with Sebastian, and it quickly became your favorite dress for the summer because it had to be tied just below your breasts and therefore didn’t sit tight around your belly. It has butterfly sleeves and a flowy skirt that is slightly longer in the back and stops right at your knees in the front. It’s a wrap-around too, which means that it shows enough cleavage to make you feel sexy for him and to top it off, holds your breasts in place so you can avoid the annoyance of a bra. 

You don’t know why it didn’t come to mind but you suspect that given how much you wore it last summer, it didn’t feel special enough. However, the fact that Javier likes it so much seems to transform it into the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen. 

Javier pulls the dress off its hanger and walks around you. He puts it on you like a coat and then stands in front of you to tie a knot on the front, undoing it and redoing it when he isn’t satisfied with his creation the first time. None of you say anything. None of you feel the need to.

His hands smooth out the fabric in a careful manner, and you suddenly find that Javier making you feel loved is so interchangeable with you feeling beautiful that you don’t have a clue why you had been in tears five minutes earlier.

He helps you into your heels too, lifting your feet one at a time by holding your ankle. The action is so gentle that you forget to breathe, even more so when he stretches to his full height once more and cups your face. 

“Listen to me,” he says and there’s a certain sternness in his voice. Despite this, he doesn’t sound mean or angry, “I don’t ever want you saying these things about yourself again, okay?”

You nod your head as much as you are able to. A whimper wants to escape your lips but you hold it back. 

“You are my wife, mi vida (my life),” he begins, letting his hands smooth over your shoulders and then down your arms until he can hold both of your hands, “I don’t give a shit about what you used to look like, it’s past, it’s not important. Eres tan hermosa (you are so beautiful). Look at the love you pour into our family. You’re the best Momma in the world, patient and kind, and I am in awe of you every day to the point where I can’t stop falling for you in new ways. You make me happy, make it worthwhile to power through at work so I can come home to you and the kids.”

“And you have never looked sexier,” he continues, eyes going down your body to see for himself that he is undoubtedly right. He grabs your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Your hips, your thighs… You’ve carried my children, for fuck’s sake. Without you, I’m nothing.”

“I mean look at you…” He trails off for a moment, looking down at where his hand is resting on your hip. You cannot help thinking about how warm his strong hand is, radiating comfort throughout your body. He looks lost in his thoughts and licks his lips without thinking. 

“Javi,” you say quietly. 

“Do you understand?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say almost nervously.

But then suddenly, his arms are around your waist and he is pulling you in for a kiss that makes you forget about the dinner reservation, the insecurities, and the time management altogether. You sling your arms around his neck and give in to his lips on yours, following him wherever he goes as he tugs you away from the mirror and towards the bed. 

Before he instructs you to lie down, his hands find the knot on the front of your dress. He undoes it slowly, letting the dress fall open like a satin robe and groaning at the sight of your lack of a bra. He lets his hands go inside the dress, skimming his palms around your waist to pull you close and your head swims from the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“Hermosa (beautiful),” he says, hands going up and cupping the underside of your breasts, You smile shyly, looking down to where he is touching you. Warmth has started to burn low in your belly just like before you fell asleep. 

With newfound bravery, you reach up to peel the dress off of your shoulders. It falls down to your elbows, exposing your chest and tickling your back, until you let it slip off onto the ground in a pool around your feet. Javier looks like he might need someone to tell him to breathe. 

He wraps one arm around your body and reaches behind your thigh with the other to pull your leg up slightly. Allowing him to slip you off your feet, he moves you onto the bed in a swift motion. 

You kick off your heels as soon as you can, crawling back towards the headboard and Javier follows you without having to get undressed. After all, he never got any further because he saw you. You feel like you want to giggle with glee at the fact that you still have this effect on him years later. 

Instinctively, you bend your legs and plant your feet flat on the mattress and without hesitation, Javier crawls between them to look down at you and marvel at the sight. He looks like a child on Christmas Day, hands reaching out to run up your shins, over your knees, and to grope at your thighs. 

“Qué fuerte (unbelievable), are you really my wife?” He muses while rubbing your thighs absentmindedly. You reach for his hands and tug him down to you. 

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love),” you sound drunk on him already, using his own words against him. He is so close to you as he lies on top of you, crushing you so heavenly with his weight.

He kisses you longingly and gently scoops you into his strong arms whilst he does it, holding you flush against himself so you can feel your nipples harden against his chest. When you inhale through your nose to keep the kiss going, his scent fills your nostrils and God, he smells like soap and home.

It takes a minute to move on. You can see how he wants to descend on your body but each time he tries, you want another kiss and he happily indulges you. Like a couple of teenagers, you only stop when both of you have slightly swollen lips and he has a hard-on poking into your thigh. 

“Let’s get these off,” Javier crawls back on the bed with elevated breath, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and you help by lifting your ass off the mattress for a moment. His eyes are glued to your soft, fresh-out-of-the-shower and glowing skin, kissing your ankle as he slips your underwear off your feet and throws it to the side. 

“You are so fucking hot,” he sounds in awe, “Look at you.”

You cannot stop grinning. Even when he lowers himself down on the bed again and gets comfortable between your thighs. 

When he settles, he takes the sight of you in. You can feel your heartbeat in your untouched clit, and it only gets more powerful when Javier looks between your legs as if he is starved. He noses along your knee and then bites your inner thigh, growling under his breath. He moves inwards towards your quivering cunt then finds your eyes just before he dives in, indulges, “Do you know how fucking wet you are for me?”

You do know. It has steadily gotten to the point where you know that when you are going out later, you need to wear a new pair of underwear since the white cotton has probably become see-through and shiny. 

And then his mouth is on you and you throw your head back, nearly breaking your neck and letting out a hah-sound as you stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re so good at that,” you moan, letting your eyes fall shut so nothing can distract you from the way his velvety tongue feels between your legs. It is intense to focus on nothing but the way he can guide it over your clit until your toes start to curl, “Oh my God, baby!”

When he kisses your clit and then sucks on it afterward, you lose your mind. Both of your hands come down to rest on the top of his head and when you feel the first flutters of pleasure that tell you that you are getting closer, you cannot keep your hips still. You move underneath his mouth, pushing your pelvis upward occasionally to let him devour you even further.

He eats you until you are seeping arousal into the bedsheets, pussy aching to be filled and stretched in only the way that his cock can. You twitch, clit pulsing, when his mouth leaves you briefly but you know what is to come - other than you, obviously - so you don’t complain. He does it to concentrate on slipping two fingers inside of you, pressing them upwards toward your g-spot before curling them over and over again. 

His mouth finds your clit again and he is beyond his usual enthusiasm. The hands on his head stop simply resting there. Instead, you thread your fingers through his hair to channel the way you want to scream into something else because oh, mmhm, oh… oh! 

You come on his tongue, shaking like a leaf and with a high-pitched moan that bounces off the walls. Your whole lower body spasms, walls clamping down on Javier’s fingers which still press towards your front wall and make you delirious with pleasure. 

“Fuck!” You cry, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Javier has pushed himself to his knees to watch you. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, teasing out the very last twitches of your high by going in circles until you need to yank his wrist away from the overstimulation. 

After a moment, you begin to giggle. Your hand skims over your forehead, holding it there afterward in an almost soothing manner. Javier is looking at you, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and is now trying to decipher whether he can move on to something more or if you need a break. 

At no point do either of you think about checking the time. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” you say when you finally get your breath under control. You still feel giggly but instead, it comes out as a soft chuckle as you speak. 

“You make it sound like I don’t do this often,” he crawls closer to you again, and you tell him to come here as he enters your arms. He kisses your neck a few times and then looks up at you, “I go down there quite a lot and often, you know.”

“Yes, yes, like a good boy, I know,” you tease him, reaching for his chin to pull him into a soft and lazy kiss. He tastes like you, and you lose yourselves in each other once more until Javier pulls off his briefs with one hand. He discards them without leaving you for too long, throwing them to whatever spot he had aimed your own underwear at. 

“Need to have you close,” you voice what you long for, having grown needy from seeing him undress completely. The sight of his beautiful cock is enough to get you fired up again, clenching around nothing, “Please.”

You spread your legs even further and Javier lies between them, reaching down to ease his cock inside of you. He enters you slowly and with a shaky breath, the both of you staring down to watch as he disappears inside of your cunt. 

You hold onto his arms, breathing hard and trying to relax as it stings slightly due to his generous girth. The second he bottoms out, you whine feebly as if you have been holding it back and it’s now safe to do so. 

“Lo sé (I know),” he soothes.

“You feel so good,” you babble, “I love you.”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” he bumps your noses together, looking into your eyes as he moves once and then twice. Your mouth falls open in a gasp and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth and kiss you deeply. 

You slide your hands underneath his arms to hug him close, letting them go up along his broad back and each ripple of muscle that flexes as he fucks you until you can clutch onto his shoulders. You rock with him, relishing in the smooth motion of his hips moving back and forth to stretch your cunt open again and again. 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders until your knuckles start to ache. No matter how many times he is with you like this, it will never be enough. It will never be enough because you need him to be this close and connected to you every goddamn day. It’s like a hardcore drug that clouds your brain, like the oxygen that you breathe in daily, like the food and drink necessary to survive. 

Without interrupting him, you move to dig your heels into the back of his legs. With each stroke of his cock inside of you, each roll of his gorgeous hips and pelvis, you can feel the muscles of his calves tightening and relaxing. Your limbs tangling around him allows you to angle him how you want it most, so you mumble something and dig your heels in further. 

Suddenly, his pelvic bone crashes against your clit, and it continues doing so until you know that this is how you are going to come a second time. 

“Oh, just like that,” you let your head fall back into the mattress, “You’re gonna make me— Javi! You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Is this pussy mine? Esta cosita linda (This pretty little thing)?” He asks with a growl, sounding so sexy that you know he is determined to make your orgasm approach even faster because his thrusts speed up.

“Para toda la vida (for life),” you say breathlessly, panting as you near your crescendo. It only takes a few more strokes against your clit and then you are done for, coming a second time with a sharp intake of breath and then a cry that could disturb the neighbors from whatever they are doing.

He kisses each whimper from your mouth and slows down a little to give you space for you to return to him. However, you know that this isn’t the end. His stamina today is mind-boggling but you don’t complain, instead take what he can give you even if it leaves you sore until the next day.

“You okay?” He asks when you have calmed down. 

You let your arms and legs fall down to your sides with a blissful expression on your face. You nod, reaching up to rub your eyes as you feel deeply sated, “Just give me a moment.” 

“Think you can take anymore?” He pulls out of you to get back onto his knees. You make a noise. On his shoulders, you spot the little crescent marks that your nails have left. 

“We’re making babies, right?” You note.

“Claro (of course),” he snorts. 

“Then you better screw me silly, Mr. Peña,” you shift slightly on the bed to present your spent cunt for him once more but more obscenely this time by reaching down and spreading your lips open. He groans at the sight, especially when you visibly clench around nothing and silently promise him what’s to come.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Peña,” he almost sounds in pain from the desperation to get back inside of you.

The sweet tenderness and romance are put on hold for something dirtier to take their place, Javier moving forward until the front of his thighs touches the back of yours. He pushes inside of you again with a gasp of your name and places his hands on your hips, holding on tightly so he can pound you into the mattress. 

The sound of his skin slamming against yours fills the room along with your moans, and each thrust sends ripples of intense pleasure through your body now that you are so sensitive. You allow yourself the relief of crying out towards the ceiling because, for the next twenty-four hours, you are completely child-free so who cares?

Javier’s eyes burn with desire at your noises. He is so beautiful, mouth hanging slightly open as he pants and his shoulders looking even broader when he hovers above you. And his noises, he is louder than normal too, you realize, with no intention of quieting his moans down either. 

A particular snap of his hips sends you reeling as he nudges your g-spot just right and makes you grip at the sheets. Javier is on you like a hawk and notices immediately the way that his cock has severed connection to your brain for a moment. 

“You like that? You like my cock?” He digs his thumbs into your hip bones, indulging himself by staring down at where his cock pistons in and out of you. His length is sticky with your arousal, “I can tell you like my cock, God, your come is all over me, baby.”

You bite your lower lip, furrow your brows, and nod repeatedly, “Yes… yesyesyes!”

“You’re on fire today, mi amor (my love), makes me wanna come inside of you like I’m meant to,” he spits filthy words as he goes harder, “Think you can give me one more? Make those gorgeous legs shake?”

The comment about your legs makes you bend them to your chest so you can link your arms under your knees. The position makes Javier swear under his breath, and when you squeeze around your calves, he becomes a tighter fit inside of you and a sob escapes you. 

He is the one to look drunk now, fighting the urge to let his eyes roll back into his skull in case he misses anything you do while he drives into your pussy in this new position. He moves his hands to place them on the back of your thighs and contort your body slightly. He digs his fingers into the extra pounds there and then fucks you with your shared pleasure in mind. 

The squelch of your cunt is obscene and you almost sound like you’re crying from how he pounds your g-spot. A third high, which started building slowly, approaches so quickly that you squeeze your eyes shut and nearly choke as you scream for him, “Yes, oh my God, yes! I’m—“

“That’s my girl,” he sounds close too, “Get it all over my cock, baby.”

The bliss you feel as you come a third time turns your demeanor from pathetic and whimpering into smiling and giggling instead. You look up at him with hazy eyes while you are grinning, moaning, and coming so hard that Javier cannot stop himself from laughing slightly even if it’s interrupted by his own moans.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous coming for me,” he praises with a shit-eating grin, gasping sharply at reaching his own peak a second later because he just cannot hold back any longer. He pulses inside of you, breeds you until you are filled to the brim, and you can feel some of it spilling out onto the bed sheets. 

Exhausted is not the right word. Your whole body slumps when post-orgasmic bliss hits you and you groan as Javier topples down on top of you as well. You melt together and breathe hard, one big tangle of limbs turning you into an octopus. 

“Definitely didn’t have time for that,” you say eventually.

“Stop being so hot then,” he jokes. He lifts his head to kiss you longingly and you allow yourself to lose yourself in it, again forgetting about the time that’s ticking by. 

As Javier reluctantly tears himself away from you, he casually looks at the clock on the nightstand and gets up so quickly that he needs to find his balance. He seems to realize that you are not just fashionably late but actually really late, “Mierda (shit).”

You check the time too and swear as well. It is twenty minutes to eight, and it takes at least fifteen minutes to drive to the inner city. There’s no way that the two of you are going to make the reservation, and you will just have to hope that they are kind enough to hold onto your table the minutes you are going to be late. 

It seems like you turn into the stars of your own romantic comedy, the only thing missing being the laughing track in the background because you move through the house so quickly that you almost forget to put on underwear after getting cleaned up in the bathroom. The rush doesn’t even give you time to ponder your shape in the mirror again.

By the time you actually leave the house, you are laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and looking disheveled. In fact, you have to stop Javier from getting into your car because his buttons are buttoned unevenly and his collar looks like he’s been out in a storm. 

“Right, fuck, what’s the time?” Javier asks when he slams the car door on his side. 

You look at the car radio’s clock, making a concerned noise, “Hmm… Ten to eight. If you speed a little?”

“I’m law enforcement,” he deadpans. 

“You’re also late for a booking you have had for months,” you argue. 

Javier pulls out of the driveway but despite it all, he still doesn’t speed with the mother of his children in the car. 

However, he does use his badge in the window to get a parking spot close to the restaurant. He pulls it from the glove box and you raise an eyebrow at him, to which he simply tells you to shut up with a tiny glint in his eye. 

Your heels click on the sidewalk as you speedwalk towards the restaurant’s main entrance. Javier holds the door open for you, and for a moment, you actually look like a couple who has it all together and is on a date. 

Despite this, it seems that impromptu sex is apparently not good for new restaurant businesses, even if it starts out innocently with an intention of comforting one’s partner, because your table has already been given to someone else. You can see Javier’s fist tightening into a ball at his side as he is told this. 

The man at the front desk looks unimpressed with your husband’s attempt to make him show you to a table anyway, and you even hear Javier saying that he cannot, in good conscience, let you starve. 

You stand a little behind your husband who quietly fumes because nothing seems to work, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid we’re fully booked tonight and many nights ahead. It is Valentine’s Day after all.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he replies with gritted teeth. 

“Honey,” you reach out to put a hand on his arm and he whirls around, only to look a lot more calm the second he finds your gaze, “It’s fine. Come on, we’ll find someplace else.”

“But you’re starving,” he says helplessly. 

“Then let’s not keep this up. I know a place around the corner,” you smile at him, holding out your hand until he gives in and takes it, “Besides, they can keep their tiny portions to themselves.”

It may just be the last remains of what you did half an hour ago but Javier starts snickering while you guide him through the door and out into the evening air. He only manages to walk down the street with you for a few yards before he presses you against a brick wall and kisses you. 

“No,” you scold him playfully and place your palms on his chest, “I don’t care if you’re Laredo’s local hero. You couldn’t get a table so we’re not wasting time by making out in public. Like you said, I am starving.”

“Descarada (cheeky devil),” he pecks your lips but lets go of you, “Fine, lead the way.”

The two of you start walking. The place you have in mind is only a short walk away and it’s a nice night, so you don’t mind. Especially not when you can walk hand-in-hand with Javier the whole way and not have to say a thing.

You end up in front of a food truck that sells tacos. It is the perfect spot for something low-key which makes your whole night seem even funnier now that you are so overdressed. The two of you snicker together as you wait in line, mostly resembling a couple who have escaped a tedious wedding to get junk food. 

“My treat,” he says.

“You better. It’s your fault we’re here,” you tease.

“I think we have different versions of what happened back home,” he winks, “But fine, order whatever you want. Like always.”

You order your food, telling the owner of the food truck to go heavy on the pico de gallo and Javier follows behind with his own order. After paying, you take a step back to let other people buy their food. 

“This is where we had our first date,” he notices, an arm around your waist as you wait for your food. He tightens his grip around you as he speaks, “Where I knew I wanted to marry you, have kids with you.”

“This is not where we had our first date,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, looking at him long enough for him to give you a kiss. 

“Yes it was,” he replies. 

“No, you were drunk and we were heading home from the bar a few blocks from here,” you remind him, “We’d only just met. Connie told me not to follow you.”

“Fuckin’ Connie,” he shakes his head, “No, that was definitely our first date. I don’t care what you say. I just don’t wanna think about the disaster that followed even if you want to call that the first date.”

“You were late and we missed our reservation,” you reminisce, “Just like today.”

“Which is why I am not calling it the first,” he lets go of you as the woman in the truck places your orders on the counter. He hands you yours and then takes his own, “We had food, talked for hours and you were wearing that dress with the bows.”

“No more talk about dresses,” you groan as you walk to find a spot, “You’re making me depressed.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs with a grin, “I knew then.”

“Well, I knew when Connie told me you were forbidden fruit,” you smile back at him, and there’s something strangely comforting about knowing that he follows right behind. 

The food truck's sitting area is right behind it in a cozy nook between two buildings. As disappointed as you were at not getting to try out the new restaurant in town, the picnic tables, and colorful plastic chairs more than make up for it. It is a lot more romantic than what you assume the gourmet restaurant would have been, and you choose a spot right underneath a blanket of string lights that seem to imitate stars. 

There are a few guests aside from you, and you feel warm at hearing their voices filled with laughter and joy. 

You sit down on the bench and tuck your skirt between your knees, getting comfortable and looking excitedly down at your soon-to-be-devoured food. There’s something uniquely satisfying about a greasy meal after sex, and even more so when your husband indulges you to have whatever you want. 

You pick up your taco and bite into it, doing a happy dance as you chew whilst Javier watches you with a grin on his face. However, the happiness is short-lived because something in the taco triggers a wave of nausea and you soon realize that it is the pico de gallo. 

“What is it?” Javier has caught on because you cannot help but grimace. 

“This tastes funny,” you say. Puzzled, you take another bite but quickly stop yourself before you are stupid enough to go for a third. Your stomach growls but there’s no way you are eating the rest without at least scraping it off. 

Carefully, you place the taco back down on its paper tray and take a few napkins from the dispenser on the end of the picnic table. You spit your latest bite out into one of them because your body does not agree with the idea of swallowing the acidity again. Then you take a long sip of your water and wish you had something to neutralize the taste in your mouth.

Without thinking much of it, you start to rid your food of the salsa fresca. You use your index finger to scrape it out onto the napkin and pick any remaining pieces off too, avoiding the natural instinct to suck your finger clean and wipe it on a new napkin instead. In front of you, Javier has stopped eating and simply watches you. 

You feel slightly judged by him, narrowing your eyes from annoyance, “What?”

“Are you pregnant?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“What? No way,” you let out a chuckle of disbelief, “That’s not funny.”

“Honey,” he continues, nodding down at the napkin, “You love pico de gallo.” 

“So? The only times I haven’t eaten it has been when I’m pregna—“ your eyes widen, looking down at your taco for a moment before staring at Javier again. He looks just as alarmed by your food which is only two bites down, “There’s no way.”

Around you, people have started to notice a shift in your voice. It probably sounds like you are upset, like Javier is using Valentine’s Day to break up with you. 

“Baby, there’s no way,” you say again and your voice has become a little higher pitched, “I’d only be five weeks along.”

To the opposite of you, Javier is speechless. He has stopped eating his own dinner, sitting with his own taco but is unable to figure out how to react. 

“We can’t have been lucky the first time around. My period is due in a few days. This is ridiculous. Sebastian is only just about five months old,” you are starting to sound frantic, “Javi. Baby, I am freaking out.”

Javier blinks a few times almost as if he is mentally shaking himself out of his trance. He reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrist, “Calm down. Let’s just finish eating and then we can go get one of those early detection tests, yeah? Te prometo que todo va a salir bien (I promise you that everything is going to be okay).” 

“Yes, alright, you’re right,” you feel instantly calmed by his touch, turning your palm upward so he can hold your hand instead. Then you frown, “But I can’t eat this. It’s probably still going to taste like it.”

“Hold on,” he says, letting go of you to switch plates with you without hesitation, “There, now you can eat.”

“Te quiero (I love you),” you sigh happily, smiling at him from across the table. 

“Love you too, now eat, so you can feed my kid,” he starts to load the taco with pico de gallo again. 

*

The late-night pharmacy, just opening, exudes a subtle but steady hum of activity, bathing in the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. Shelves are neatly lined with pharmaceuticals, and you scrunch up your nose at the faint scent of antiseptic. Javier keeps a hand on the small of your back the whole time, steering you gently toward the counter as if this new piece of information has made him instantly more protective.

There’s only a single pharmacist behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with her glasses around her neck in a chain, but she doesn’t blink when you explain your sudden emergency. She beckons you down along the aisles and grabs a few different pregnancy tests for you to choose from. 

“This one is more certain but it does cost a little extra,” she explains and holds up a Clearblue digital test. Javier quickly exchanges a look with you. 

“We’ll take that one, actually make it two,” you say, tapping your feet nervously on the floor, “Can I use the bathroom here?” 

“We’re that eager?” She smiles, “Sure, dear. Let me just get the key.”

Javier pays at the counter, a twinkle in his eyes as he makes a joke, “My treat again.”

“You better; you’re the one who got us into this mess - again,” you giggle and it even earns you a chuckle from the pharmacist. 

“I hope you get the result you are hoping for,” she says when unlocking the door to the staff toilet. She ushers you both inside the door and then closes it behind you.

Silence at last, you think to yourself and even find that the water you drank with your meal earlier has run right through you. You pull up your skirt, twisting it and tying a knot to keep it from falling down again. You go for your underwear next, bending over to pull them down your legs to your ankles. You feel Javier’s palm steadying you without thinking.

Besides you, Javier starts tearing open the Clearblue boxes. He hands them to you one by one, and you finally sit down to pee, angling your wrist awkwardly to make sure you use the sticks correctly. The both of you stay silent through the whole ordeal.

You wrap both pregnancy tests in toilet paper and hand them to Javier who places them on the edge of the sink so you can finish up and get dressed again. He takes a step to the side to let you wash your hands, having crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his fingers nervously.

While you listen to the sound of the water running, the air in the tiny, poorly lit bathroom seems to hang thick with anticipation. You want to say something but there is nothing you can say that’ll ease your shared, anxious heartbeat. Eventually, Javier beats you to it.

“Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative,” he gives you an uncertain smile. Mostly, it sounds as if he is talking to himself. 

“You know I will be,” you sigh, stepping close to link your arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, cupping your waist and rubbing soothingly with his thumbs.

“Me too,” he lets out a shaky breath.

“I know,” you automatically tighten your grip on him as the minutes go by, knowing that he needs it as much as you. On the sink, the white plastic sticks seem to mock you with their silence. 

Come on… 

A few minutes more and suddenly, you know there is no way back. It seems ridiculous that a stick with your pee on it has the ability to predict your future but here you are. You shake your head after untangling yourself from your husband, “I can’t look.”

Javier bravely takes them from their place on the sink. Your stomach does somersaults as he unwraps them, twisting them so their displays face upward. A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face and he looks up immediately, “You’re four to five weeks pregnant.”

“What?” You grab his wrist to take a look for yourself, “There’s no way!”

Sure enough, both displays show a positive result and an approximate number of weeks. Calculating in your head, you know it has to be that one time in the middle of the night in January. The thought of getting it right without even really having begun is crazy because it’s so unbelievable. 

“That’s so surreal,” you walk straight into his arms. He hugs you tightly, resting his lips on your forehead and you can feel his elevated breathing because you are so close to him. 

“Pop is going to have a heart attack,” he mumbles with slight amusement, although you can hear the tremor in his voice. You look into his eyes, reaching up to cup his cheek and smiling softly.

“We can’t tell anyone yet, it’s not been three months,” you say, lost in just staring at him. He is so beautiful when he is happy. 

“God, I know, I'm just so excited,” he chuckles, a little embarrassed. 

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out that it’s going to be a Halloween baby,” you grin. 

“Oh fuck, forget about Pop; Inés is gonna get so pissed if she has to share Halloween with a birthday child,” he starts to laugh after he has said it. You join in, high on the happiness you feel.

“I love you so much,” you say when the laughter dies down. 

“I love you too,” he kisses you after saying it. 

“And happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you continue, letting Javier pull away to throw the pregnancy tests out and wash his hands. 

“See? Now you’re using it right,” he teases after drying his hands. 

Then he opens the door and waits for you to step outside. Everything seems possible tonight.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[tavina-writes]

I have been pondering the recent rash of "post canon NHS and LXC would never ever reconcile bc even if NHS wanted to have Er-ge back, LXC would never ever forgive him for [insert reason of choice here]" type of posts + the "do you think NHS thinks very hard about how much Da-ge would hate him for becoming [the way that he is now] by choosing to seek vengeance" type of posts, and I think fundamentally the reason these posts do not jive with me is that we have no indication, in the show or in the book that uh, NHS gives a shit about either of these things very much anymore?

The first type of post is predicated on the assumption that LXC's forgiveness or lack thereof some some sort of either extension of mercy (which NHS obviously does not deserve <- or so assumes the post) or some form of punishment (which is obviously the correct answer) but the last scene we get with NHS both in the book and the show make no indication that this is a thing he wants? Or cares about? Book NHS has *sauntered off* with his little hat trophy and Show NHS walks off screen after saying something along the lines of "What is my responsibility I won't shirk, what isn't my responsibility I won't care about." Now, arguably, show NHS is having a worse go of it emotionally, but shows no real inclination or interest in either apologies or making up and being friends again with LWJ, LXC, WWX, or other people. Book NHS seems pretty pleased with the outcome of the events as a whole?

The second type of post is predicated on the fact that NHS finds Da-ge's judgement a horrible burden to bear at this stage in the game, which! He might! But again especially in the book we get no indication that he has any fucks left to give about what Da-ge may or may not have wanted since Da-ge is dead. In both the show and the book, NHS went about revenge taking very specific and complicated actions with the desired result of JGY dying, but he certainly took the scenic route getting there, which, he didn't need to? As I've written about before, JGY didn't see him as a threat. If he wanted JGY dead he could've arranged to poison JGY's tea like, 10 years ago and had done with it instead of his complicated Rube Goldberg life ruining scheme. If he is still sickly anxious about how Da-ge might feel about the scheming and the trouble causing and the whole everything, that's certainly possible, but he must've decided it was worth it anyway regardless of that, and I don't know that it necessarily would've changed just because he got what he wanted at the end.

Overall, I think as a fandom we think a lot about like "will and should this relationship ever be repaired or similar to how it used to be?" and "does this character deserve/not deserve the forgiveness of people they've hurt or abandoned?" which can be interesting questions! I do feel like these are often taken as "is a character morally good (deserves to be forgiven) or morally bad (deserves to rot in hell forever never forgiven ever ever)" and based entirely on if Character is the meta writer's blorbo. Under this paradigm the concept of "Character did bad things to get exactly what they wanted and were happy about that and no relationships were ever repaired and the emotional detachment of people they used to care about no longer matters to them!" is uncomfortable.

It's just that for NHS I've increasingly come to the conclusion that canonically, I don't think NHS thinks he has anything to apologize for, nor is he super interested in being forgiven! He got what he wanted the way he wanted it to happen. Which is potentially supremely unsatisfying but I think is very sexy as a narrative concept.

[lotusmi]

SUCCESS STORY!!🤎🧸

tw//mental problems, abusive family, bullying, suicide attempt, manifest/void obsession

first of all i want to thank lotus because it helped me even when i was thinking about suicide❤️‍🩹

it's been years since I learned loa and I was having problems with the manifest. althought I have known loa for 2-3 years, i constantly reacted to 3D and for such reasons I could not manifest anything for 2-3 years. and when i first learned loa i was obsessed with void. I was hurting myself to enter void. like if you don't enter void today I will kill you. i was crazy because of void. at the same time, I was staying in the family environment that dragged me to death, and I was bullied at school . i was hated by people even though i did nothing. i tried to commit suicide many times, my family wouldn't let me go to the therapist. also, no one said anything to the bullying I saw. thats why I bullied myself for years in the same way. if I told anyone I was being bullied and asked for help, they would say it was probably my problem to my face💀💀 and towards the end of 2022, i seriously couldn't stand it anymore. i was constantly reading blogs [i think there is no blog i haven't read, lmao] and the last time i couldn't stand it, i tried suicide again, but i failed. later i wrote to lotus and she gave me a lot of advice (baby ily😩❤️) and i cried more than i have ever cried that night. the problem is that while people were already ruining me, the real problem was that i was ruining myself too. after that day, in the first week, i had so many problems in my manifest journey. but until 2023, i said to myself, "i don't want to live like this anymore. i deserve the life I want.” i made a promise. and every time I felt like quitting, i remembered my promise to myself. and now i have revised my whole life, i live in dubai🤭. if you're going to ask how i did this, i started to listen to my inner voice, i almost stopped entering tumblr. i stopped affirming and wrote down the things that i was gonna revise one by one, and added them to the notes app on my phone. i made a note at the bottom that I already have these in my life. when “what if I can't manifest the life I want?” if such thoughts came to my mind, i told myself that the creation was already finished. in this process, i focused only on myself and was developing my self concept. before I went to bed at night, i was constantly imagining the life I wanted and I was staying in that state and saying I already had the life I wanted, I didn't affirm anything extra. and even those who made life difficult for me started to apologize to me. (i manifested their karma life lol) anyway I don't want to talk more about those bitches but I want to mention this. please take a break. relax. stay away from things like void, loa for a few days. I noticed that some of you are obsessed with void on this blog. but i must say void is just a method. if i manifested the life i wanted when i was only 12-13 years old, you can do it too. take a break and do what feels good to you. love yourself. loa blogs can help you up to a point. they can't spare all their days for you. start taking responsibility. find manifest methods that work well for you. love yourself. meditate. i’ve talked a lot but I would like to add that, if someone tells you that you are the cause of the circumstances you are experiencing right now, that you created the conditions in which you live, please tell them to shut their fucking mouths. no such thing. i was blaming myself again, thinking what a disgusting monster i am just because this “you create ur reality” thingy. but the truth is that creation is already over. good luck!

MY FAV SUCCESS STORY TO EXIST!!!! 😭

I literally cried when this girl texted me saying she is living her dream life, I was so pround, I am pround 💗

Backstory, she first texted me 12/15/2022

She told me everything about her circumstances, they were really bad ones, and she was 12 at time and this made my heart so broken (she revised her age) since her parents were really toxic and disgusting ( I am not going to say much about her old story).

So I told her all about the toxic home I lived and how I manifested it away too (my success, my failures).

So, time passed and 01/feb I got this text!

I literally cried because I was so happy for herrrr 💗😭😭

"How she did it?"

She focused in her inner Self being the only reality and ignored all circumstances!

"and i would love to you to add those youtubers and blogs" insta: - kriston jackson youtube: - lana blakely tumblr: - @becomingthatgirl111 — other sources abt loa: - joe dispenza, edward art"

I literally cried so much and I am so happy for you my angel, look how you did it! You were 12 and revised your whole life! 💗💗💗

And that are people out there who don't believe that it is possible to manifest things. Look at this girl 💓

You did it amazing love, I am so pround of you. You are deserving of all the best things in the world. I wish you all the fun in life. Thank you sm for sending me this, I feel so appreciated that I had helped you, but who did all of this was YOU! 💗💗💗

✉️You all, everything is possible!

[heartstopperthoughts]

Any talented fanfiction writers in the Heartstopper fandom who want to write my Charlie Proposes First headcanon?

So, it takes place around the time that Charlie graduates uni (Nick graduated a year prior) and they’re moving into their first place together.

Tao has joined Charlie to help him do some moving-house shopping, and they pass by a jewelry store and Tao wants to stop to get Elle something for her birthday. Charlie sees a ring that it just so perfectly Nick. (At this point marriage is still kind of a far-off concept in Charlie’s mind. Like they’ve talked about getting married at some point but in a very abstract off-in-the-future kind of way.) He casually points out the ring to Tao who is like, “Haha, you guys have basically been married for years now, are you finally ready to tie the knot?” and Charlie kind of laughs it off, but then they go home, and Charlie cannot stop thinking about the ring. He doesn’t tell anyone, but he goes back to buy it and decides he’ll just save it for when he and Nick are both finally ready. But then just having the ring makes marriage feel more real, like he realizes he’s actually going to get married to Nick Nelson one day and he starts to kind of obsess over it and how he might propose. He wants it to be a grand gesture but he also wants to make it special and personal but not too cheesy and also not too public but not too boring either. In true Charlie Spring fashion, he gets himself all worked up over it, and to calm himself down, he starts to carry the ring around with him, just so he’s ready if the opportunity ever presents itself.

Anyways, flash forward a handful of months and Nick and Charlie are home for the holidays staying with Nick’s mom, and they’ve offered to do the Christmas dinner shopping. They’re walking through the store, just chatting, and Charlie can feel the ring in his pocket. He just stops and looks at Nick and all of the sudden realizes “I am so in love with this man, and I want to be married to him, like, yesterday.” And without even really thinking about it, Charlie blurts out “We should get married” and Nick thinks he means like someday eventually, so he just says “Yeah?” and turns around all smiley like nothing’s happening, and then he sees how nervous Charlie looks and he realizes Charlie is serious. Meanwhile alarms are going off in Charlie’s brain because he’s starting to realize like, “Oh shit, I think I’m proposing right now?!!!!” And he scrambles in his pocket for the ring and is like “Yeah!” and fumbles out this unplanned but incredibly heartfelt proposal. Nick is completely stunned and isn’t really saying anything, and Charlie’s brain starts to spiral like “Oh shit I’ve fucked it up! What am I doing proposing to him here?! Charlie Spring, you complete idiot! Of course you would pick the least romantic place in the entire world to ask the love of your life to marry you. As if he would say yes to you in a Tesco! You couldn’t have thought this through more?!” And then Nick starts to tear up and fishes around in his own pocket and pulls out… you guessed it, a ring! And they both start sobbing, and say yes to each other.

Turns out Nick had bought a ring back in the summer too and had wanted to propose but didn’t want to add stress to Charlie’s already full plate with graduation and starting a new job and moving into a new place, so he had decided to wait. He’d been trying to work up the nerve to take Charlie to the beach where they had their first date and propose there, but just wasn’t sure when it would be the right time, and he didn’t want to rush Charlie into anything if he wasn’t ready to be married just yet. And Charlie’s like, “Oh my God, I am so sorry I ruined your proposal! And I asked in a Tesco of all places. I’m an idiot!” And Nick hushes him and is like “You’re not. It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

And then they go to the beach anyways to celebrate their engagement.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hello! I love your writing a lot and was wondering if at some point you’d consider writing a Frank Zhang x mortal!gf headcanon set? I loved the ones you did for Percy and Jason and just really love the concept. And Frank’s my favorite silly little crush. 💘 Thank you if you do and if you don’t thank you for reading this!! And thank you for everything you write!!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ frank zhang x mortal! reader hcs

content: frank zhang x mortal! reader hcs warning: not any that i can think of??? very mushy gushy author's note: MORE MORTAL READER HCS???? WHO AM I???? i need to make my precious boy leo some and then he and frank can be a matching pair like jason and percy...which means leo gets the angst one first bc frank got the happy ending lmao- someone request it before saturday so i don't have to delete it pls pls love ya

"w-what do you mean, my cards been declined?" you managed to warble out, tears rapidly filling your eyes as you squeezed your hands around the counter of the little cafe

you see, you were supposed to be getting a little sweet treat because you've had a rough day, and goddamn it, you deserve it!!

you stumbled into the cafe, getting of the streets of san francisco with a beaming smile

but now, all that joy was rapidly crumbling and all the troubles of the day seemed to come back again at full force and you were sure you were about to crumple into a puddle of tears on the ground until they gave you a free coffee because you were just so pathetic-

"im sorry, miss, but there's not much more i can do for you. we've got other customers, so if you could..." the poor guy replied, subtly gesturing towards the door.

"but- but-" you tried, the words getting stuck in your throat, " i really need this...please."

"miss, don't make me ask again. please, leave-"

"i got it," a voice cut in from behind you, awkwardly clearing his throat.

you turned to him, eyes wide and teary

and frank was all that much more confident in his decision to help the pretty girl in front of him

"really?" you asked, your voice cracking just the slightest

frank offered you a soft and sweet smile, nodding his head before turning to the cashier

"just a plain black coffee for me. you want anything from here?" frank asked, tapping his finger against the glass that separated you from the baked goods of the cafe

while your eyes caught on some of the macaroons, you shook your head at the cute guy buying your drink, feeling like you were overstepping

"some of those, please," stated frank, pointing towards the macaroons and you began to wonder if he had the ability to read your mind.

the cashier slide over the pastries as frank paid and you took the plate into your hands, looking up at frank as though he just saved your life

"thank you, truly. from the bottom of my heart," you mused before clearing your throat lightly, "are- are you waiting for friends or- or could i sit with you?? i feel like i owe it to you to get to know you."

"yeah- yeah, no, i'd like that," frank beamed, taking a seat across from you

and when you weren't looking, he was typing a text under the table to percy and jason telling them NOT to come to the cafe if they loved him bc he met the love of his life and did not need those two idiots ruining it for him

and, so, naturally, those two showed up anyways but took up seats in the corner, pretending to not spy on frank even though they were totally spying on frank

you talked to frank about random stuff, what brought you to the city, family gossip, your favorite color and what not

and frank listened, basically staring at you with heart eyes.

"what about you, what brings a guy like you to a city like this?" you joked, looking up at him through your lashes with a tiny smirk

"oh! ummmmm camp- uh, military camp!" he lied, quickly swallowing down his shame at doing so.

"oh, really? didn't peg you as the military type," you frowned, quickly shaking it off as to not offend him.

"well, it's my dad's thing and im...uh, just keeping up tradition," frank added and you nodded in understanding, taking a sip from your drink

but of course, good things were never built to last for demigods

hey, what do you get when you put a son of poseidon, jupiter, and mars in a cafe??

a fury-ious cafe owner, obvi

(pls laugh or ill cry)

bc they are about to wreck the place

i mean not a single chair or table is upright when they are done

and you were so confused, now covered in water and your hair is all knotted from jason's wind and you were prettyyyyyyy sure at some point frank's arm was a bears arm

which is crazy

oh, and the guy that you thought was just a big softie and that you thought was cute and that bought you coffee?? yeah he stabbed somebody- something????

you weren't entirely sure what he stabbed, but stabbing definitely happened

"hey, are they alright?" percy asked, nodding his head towards you, who was still standing in one spot in shock

"y/n...let's go talk, yeah? i've got some explaining to do," frank whispered, gently, leading you through the mess of chairs and tables and out in the cold air of san francisco

and so the two of you walked aimlessly and now it was frank's turn to talk and your turn to listen

you asked strange questions, that always managed to catch frank off guard and lighten the whole situation

"so...half your dna is like...not real??"

"realistically, no one should be dating anyone in those camps. yall are related, that's disgusting."

"frank...you do understand that it's not normal to train your whole life just in case, maybe, a war comes?? dude, im going to be honest with you, i could not survive ten minutes if a war started, which is normal."

he couldn't help but admire how easily you were to accept this, how quick you were to comfort him about his life

it felt like he'd known you years instead of hours

months instead of minutes

lifetimes instead of seconds

and when you smiled up at him and asked another stupidly strange question, he couldn't help but think that maybe he had known you for lifetimes

that your souls kept playing a fun game of hide and seek

and that he finally found you in this one, his heart thudding and soul giggling as it pulled you from your hiding spot and held you tight in its arms

[hana-no-seiiki]

But like the ship trope where PERSON A looks like a childish brat on the outside but is actually the stable, mature one in the relationship

while PERSON B is the opposite wherein they’re super stoic, cool-headed but is actually super petty and aggressive at times.

tw/cw: soft yandere themes, seggs but not explicit

😤🫸🏽🫷🏽

That but with Villain and/or Vigilante! Reader and Yandere! Damian.

I’ve seen this a lot in Damian Wayne works so credits go to those amazing writers that inspired me to have my own take on this!! A lot of this is just a rehash/amalgamation of what people have already written but with some of my input and thoughts…lots and lots of thoughts.

Anyways, you seem like the type of person to ruin another’s life for the sake of it. Just your wicked whims. You’re notorious for stealing massive amounts of properties or (in case of Vigilante) beat if not kill people who you deem unredeemable.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DONT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

VER I : I’m thinking second gen Catwoman/Batman + CatNoir/Ladybug (both the OG anime concept and the series) dynamic, just gn reader.

You’re always clinging unto to Robin/New Batman. Saying sweet nothings and flirting with him, if not full on making out/having sex with the vigilante. You like the dude, really. But your heart remains with Damian Wayne. Robin/Batman just really reminded you of him sometimes.

Hatefucking. Hatefucking happens a lot. Robin/Batman loves pinning you to the walls/floors of alleyways before you two get down and dirty.

Whereas, people (namely his fellow vigilantes) think he’s done with you, but he’s probably the biggest [Villain Name] fanboy out there.

He knows basically everything about you except your true identity. Which is somehow completely inaccessible to him.

Little does he know that it was actually his own doing, locking your civilian self’s private information as a favor between friends.

But because of this he misunderstands and thinks you’re even more of a genius or something because you managed to outwit him!! You!! Are!! So!! Damn!! Amazing!!

Damian acts cold with everybody. He’s a brooding guy. He doesn’t express much. Only about 1% of what he’s feeling actually gets put into action and/or words.

So the fact that he insists on taking on missions where he has to face you, assists you if you aren’t harming anyone, or actually indulges in your flirtation is a big thing.

So it’s safe to say when he found out you liked someone else other than him, that you were just using him to get yourself to feel better about not having said dude he gets petty.

You two used to have this pact, to never interfere with each other’s civilian lives and to respect your secret identities (of which he’s tried to breach remotely several times). But all that goes up in flames as he stalks you after a heist. Following you home.

He finds out about your secret identity, your ‘unrequited’ love for him, and you two begin dating. But you’re still oblivious about his other identity.

Damian kinda has a kink for it ngl. Like he’ll charm you as Robin/Batman even as you tell him you’re already dating someone else.

Like it’s so adorable how you keep resisting him, telling him how much you love his civilian counterpart.

But then he still proceeds to fuck your brains out as a Vigilante.

Man didn’t know he was into roleplaying until this moment. Like he’ll murmur stuff like “You say you love him, but nothing beats this. I’ve already carved a place inside you, Beloved. A place shaped in my image.”

Or “Where did your ‘undying love’ go, hm? Nowhere. You’re right back with me. Complete undone within moments of my touch.”

Things go a little awry though when you, ever the mature/communicative one in the relationship attempt to break up because Robin/Batman is leaving you confused as to how you truly feel. In addition to you not want to cuck your beautiful (soon to be ex) boyfriend any longer.

VER II: Is more on Vigilante x Vigilante. Similar to the one above except your relationship is a lot more professional and less hate-fuckey. You know of each other’s civilian/vigilante selves.

You’ve always admired Damian. Despite being quite close in age, you always saw him as a younger brother if not like a son almost. Witnessing him grow up and mature alongside you.

But your doting nature always came off a tad bit romantic. Flirtatious even. You tended to be a playful person after all. Hell you even call him Babe or Baby like that’s totally normal for you to call friends that.

A lot of your friends and colleagues always laugh at Damian’s expense whenever you arrive to come nag and/or flirt with him. It’s honestly hilarious. Judging from his murderous aura, people always thought that he wanted you 6 feet under.

The truth of the matter was that his glares and thoughts of murder were all directed to everyone else but you.

Damian never felt so at home and at peace with anyone or anything but his pets in life.

He’d be damned if anything happens to you.

Still, it frustrates him. He knows that you only see him as sibling almost. That you’d die for him but never date him. That despite your honeyed words he’s probably neck deep in the friendzone.

And so to the absolute surprise of everybody, he starts flirting back.

e.g. murdering those who slighted you and/or gazed upon your visage for too long, delivering their remains to your doorstep, amongst a bouquet flowers of course, and the occasional chocolates

You eventually fall in love back, though you ask him to tone it down on the violence.

- might edit more soon, but for now adios!!!

[obae-me]

I am so sad that I'm not a Solomon fucker, because if I was, I would have actually cared about the Bon Voyage event. It's kind of cute, but I am very apathetic towards good old Sol. What are your thoughts on it?

Sorry for getting to this late! I wanted to actually complete the event before I responded, and I got to it very last minute! (Since I have low-key kind of hated the events lately. I hate spending 2-6 minutes doing the songs only for five lines of text as a reward, it's almost painful, but anyways...)

Now, Solomon as a character, I love. I was very meh towards him in the original Shall We Date, but they really started working on his character towards the end, and in Nightbringer they really pulled it home! Now I love Solomon! Before, he was just kind of some sketchy little sorcerer that they usually brought in to help solve plot devices- and don't get me wrong, he's still like that, but we definitely get a deeper look into *why*.

He's an immortal human whose desire for power and knowledge was so great, he somehow went head on with nearly the entire Devildom, convinced Barbatos to make a pact with him, and then made Barbatos show him every experience he could, at least, that's what I remember from the lore dropped thus far. And what do you usually get when you get a human that knows and sees too much? A broken human. A human who feels like there is no purpose left. A human with mixed morals and a shattered ego.

Now, this part is just my own personal thoughts and theories, but Thirteen talks about how Solomon's soul used to be beautiful like MC's, but then it became ruined. I imagine it's because he 'flew to close to the sun' and it nearly broke him. MC has hope, has love, has so much to learn still, so much to give. I imagine when Solomon learned and saw everything he could, he had hardly any hope left. Nothing was new to him anymore. He spent so much of his life seeking knowledge, and once he finally got it all...what was left? It corrupted him, surely. But then, clearly, somewhere along the line, his new purpose was to protect and stand for the human realm. Then his dealings with demons began.

The game always talks about how Solomon is now closer to a demon than a human. But I think that's because he *had* to "become" a demon. He has so many pacts, had so many exchanges with the Devildom, he had to learn how to survive amongst them. The way he withholds key information until the crucial moments. The way his "accidents" always seem to line up in his favor. The way his generous actions typically end up satisfying something of his as well. Exactly what a demon does. Exactly what someone would learn spending so much time around demons. I mean, that's exactly what MC learns how to do throughout the entire game! Play it smart, do whatever you can to earn the Brother's favors, and get their pacts. And then when MC throws that concept out the window and does things just to be selfless and then gets their pacts anyway? It almost breaks the "law" of the world that Solomon has come to know.

I'd like to think that maybe that's the reason why Solomon was sent to live with Simeon and Luke in Shall We Date. He needed to learn how to be around other beings, and maybe being around angels could correct some of that.

Now, about the event, the event was actually pretty cute. And while I have my general complaints about the events being very short and shallow, this one wasn't the worst of the bunch. Solomon getting some of the demon brothers together to give you a really nice dream is such a cute thing to do (even if he went behind your back to cast a spell on you). And also I'm not sure if it was stated specifically, but I'm like 98% sure MC and Solomon shared a bed at the end there, which is really adorable. I love sleepy bed cuddles.

This kind of ties back to my insights into his character, where he's spent so long being around demons that he's not really sure how to be a normal human anymore. He spends so much of his time planning and prepping how to do something for you when all he really needed to do was ask. All he wanted was a cute little date and to watch the sunset with MC and went through like a 100 step plan just to get it. And MC's little options to scold him for his schemes is really adorable in my opinion. Essentially it boiled down to them just saying "just ask next time, you idiot!". And Solomon being one of the smartest characters in the game being so lost and confused in terms of relationships and romance is really...very cute, which is why I think I like the concept of his character so much. I love when super overpowered characters have weaknesses like this, or learning new lessons.

I also loved the concept of just Lucifer, Asmo, Luke, Belphie, and Satan all just really hamming it up for MC. They preformed for them all just as a little thank you, and when they clarified, it wasn't really for anything huge. Shopping, helping them with decisions, just spending time with them, that was enough to fully convince them to pick up this dream-world-improv. Which...is really sweet.

Man I love these boys.

[inkdemonapologist]

My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.